


Noticed

by GraphiteFox



Series: Red Rover [6]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fear of Discovery, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-25 00:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3789481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraphiteFox/pseuds/GraphiteFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Harlin.  Harry and Merlin get a little handsy at headquarters and get caught</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noticed

**Author's Note:**

> Crash Into Me is really exhausting to write and I missed these two so much, so here, have some unplanned fluff.

               Merlin takes his job very seriously. Sometimes too seriously, if Harry has anything to say about it. At the moment, however, Merlin is being a little rebellious. While the control room is of course equipped with a television, meant to allow them to monitor news stories, Merlin has decided that sneaking a quick peek at the match is a reasonable use of his time.

                It’s proving more exhausting than entertaining, as he keeps glancing at the door every other second. When it does open, he’s relieved at first to see it’s only Harry.

                Then he’s immediately reminded why there’s no such thing as “only” Harry.

                “Watching football on company time?” asks Harry, barely glancing at the screen. He stands right in front of the television and before Merlin can complain, he climbs up into the chair, sliding his knees on either side of Merlin’s thighs so his weight is balanced. Harry’s fingers dip just under the neck of Merlin’s sweater, curling around his tie. “Shame on you.”

                “Harry!”

                “What?” asks Harry, frowning. “Are you going to tell me that you’d rather watch football than snog me?”

                “At the moment, yes. Besides, this is the last place we should be snogging,” Merlin reminds him, acutely aware of both the unlocked door and the interested party in his trousers.

                “Just a quick kiss,” Harry practically purrs, and Merlin lets his lover tug him forward by his tie. Harry’s smirking lips are centimeters from his and Merlin’s distracted, but not enough to miss the sound of hinges creaking. Neither is Harry.

                They both turn in terror. Gawain stops in the doorway. His mouth quirks for a moment, then he steps back out, pulling the door shut behind him.

                Merlin pushes Harry off his lap, face hot, and starts fixing his tie. This is _exactly_ why he told Harry not to play around. He’s been very clear about it: no PDA, no suggestible behavior while they’re at the mansion. His relationships are his business, though now they might be more than that.  

                Harry has slipped his hands in his pockets and is pretending to be interested in the game. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks. At least Merlin now knows he’s capable of being embarrassed.

                The door opens again and Gawain enters, this time with Gaheris in tow.

                “Hello, lads. Got the game on?”

                Merlin doesn’t trust his voice so he only nods, smoothing out the top of his sweater with a slow brush across one shoulder.

                “2-1,” Harry adds helpfully.

                “Who’s up?” asks Gaheris, dragging over another chair.

                “Arsenal.”

                “Now that’s a shock!” remarks Gawain. He stands just beside Gaheris, mimicking Harry’s stance.

                “Be nice,” his handler chides. “Any good plays?”

                “Um, not really. I haven’t had it on long,” Merlin explains, aware of Harry’s growing smile.

                Gaheris couldn’t seem to care less about what may have been happening a moment ago, which means Gawain hasn’t said anything. Yet. If there’s anyone that _had_ to find out about them, Gawain would be Merlin’s top choice. Still, he’s more than a little peeved at Harry and wishes he could let him know.

                “Oh!” Gaheris waves his hands in a brief, nonsensical gesture. He tends to get excited easily, and Merlin’s become used to seeing all kinds of motions from him. “I’ve been working on the pens again.”

                “The pens?” Harry asks. “New tech?”

                Gawain stops him. “No, don’t ask. They’ll go on for hours.”

                “I think I fixed the problem with the blade retraction,” Gaheris continues, oblivious to his agent’s words or purposely ignoring them. “Shouldn’t have to worry about getting injured again.”

                “Again?” Harry interjects.

                Gaheris briefly flicks his gaze upward. Merlin wonders if Harry realizes just how much he gets on the handler’s nerves. Not that it’s Harry’s fault, specifically, but Gaheris isn’t appreciative of arrogance in general and Harry’s still got it in spades.

                “It’s one of the consequences of development,” he replies shortly.

                Harry rubs his fingers across his mouth, then suddenly looks at Merlin and asks, “Is that how you got that cut on—“

                “You’re missing it,” Merlin interrupts, even though nothing interesting is happening on the screen. The last thing he needs though is Harry remarking about the cut on his _thigh_ , which under no circumstances should he know about. Harry frowns, then his eyes widen in realization.

                _You idiot_. If he thinks it hard enough, maybe Harry will get it.

                “Well, I’ll leave you blokes to it,” Harry says, turning casually in the direction of the door. “Let me know about that report when you have a chance, Merlin.”

                “Of course,” he replies calmly. They’re going to have a little chat tonight, but first Merlin has to resolve their newest issue.

                Gaheris is watching the game closely, a little more relaxed with Harry out of the room. He doesn’t seem to have picked up on anything. There’s a little smile at the corner of Gawain’s mouth though that tells Merlin all he needs to know.

+

                It’s almost the end of the day when Merlin finds Gawain in the gym, thankfully alone. He’s shadow boxing, which means he’s just started his routine. Dressed down in casual wear, Gawain reminds Merlin of a tank. The perfectly tailored Kingsman suits accentuate the man’s bridge-like shoulders and dense arms, but it’s nothing compared to actually seeing the sheer muscle he possesses. His is the kind of power that no one underestimates.               

                Merlin is strong but it’s a lean strength, subtle but solid. In his Kingsman garb he looks like your average fit young man, but he’s had the opportunity to stun more than one person with his capability. Merlin’s fine with being underestimated. It just means he gets to enjoy the surprise on his opponent’s face before he drops them.

               Gawain catches sight of Merlin in the doorway and grins. “Come spar with me.”

                “I don’t think I stand a chance,” Merlin says, but he steps into the room.

                “Don’t dissemble with me, lad, I’ve seen your scores.”

                “Apparently everyone has,” Merlin grumbles, rolling up his sleeves. He should be pleased that his skills precede him, but a little mystery wouldn’t go amiss either. The Kingsman are gentleman, so no one will outright challenge him, but he’s gotten more than a few “invitations” to the range, or to spar. He’s more competitive than most people think, but he’s also got enough wisdom to refrain from showing his hand too often.

                “Gloves?” Gawain asks.

                Merlin shakes his head. He’s never liked the weight of having the gloves on. They only distract him, irritating him just enough to slow his reactions. He’d never admit to it, but he’s a brawler at his core. Kingsman has refined him, tamed him just enough, but Merlin fights with teeth if pressed.

                He wonders if Gawain is going to press.

                He lets Gawain throw the first few punches to get a sense of the man’s style. With his size and strength, Gawain can afford to be lazy but he’s not. He’s quicker than Merlin expected. Judging by his grin, Gawain knows this, too.

                “You don’t fight like Galahad do you? A lot of dancing around, a lot of playing with your food.”

                “You’ve fought with Harry?” Merlin asks, just managing to avoid a solid strike to his cheek.

                “Tried to. Man dives around like a possessed jungle cat. I got bored, gave up.”

                Merlin doesn’t play with his food. The next swing he blocks, then returns one of his own. Gawain leans back just as the punch clears his chin.

                “I’m impressed.”

                They stop talking for awhile, focused on each other’s movements. At one point Merlin gets Gawain right in the chest, the impact barely enough to make him step back. Gawain responds by throwing a punch that would have likely broken Merlin’s nose if it had been allowed to connect. Gawain is the better fighter and Merlin’s not here to bite, anyway.

                When they finally call it a draw, they’re both sweaty and pleasantly tired. The adrenaline has taken the edge off Merlin’s anxiety.

                “About earlier…”

                Gawain smiles. “I’m not bothered, if that’s what you’re worried about. I didn’t tell Gaheris, either. Though, if you’re going to be so cavalier…”

                “That was Harry’s fault,” Merlin mutters. He wishes he’d removed his sweater before sparring; it’s damp and uncomfortable now, but his white shirt underneath is probably ringed with sweat. He’s just going to have to bear it until he gets home.

                “I figured as much,” Gawain replies with a laugh. “You two look good together. Makes a surprising amount of sense, actually.”

                “How so?”

                Gawain rubs a towel over his face before replying. “Galahad is a disaster waiting to happen, whereas you’re far more focused. You’re going to keep him from getting himself killed and he’s going to ensure you live a little.”

                “An interesting assessment,” Merlin replies. It’s probably rather astute.

                “Just tell me one thing: did you hook up in Morocco?”

                Merlin doesn’t reply immediately and Gawain bursts into laughter.

                “Boy was practically frantic trying to get you assigned to that mission. How hard did Galahad have to work to get you to notice him?”

                “What do you mean?”

                Gawain’s eyes are gleaming and he coughs a moment before laughing again. “That boy was desperate for your attention. Always wandering the hallways, always turning in his reports when he knew you’d be around. Probably thought he was being real subtle. Surprised you didn’t feel his eager doe eyes burning into the back of your head from your first day.”

                “But he barely even spoke to me before Marrakesh!” Merlin is running all his earliest encounters with Harry through his mind, but nothing sticks out to him. They were always brief and polite. How could he have missed all that? “So you already knew.”

                “Had my suspicions, yeah. Have to say I’m glad it worked out.”

                Despite the teasing, Merlin knows he means it. It’s a massive relief. “Look, I appreciate your response. And if you wanted to tell Gaheris…”

                Gawain shakes his head. “Not my place. Besides, Gaheris respects you. If he finds out that you willingly spend time with Galahad, he might stop.”

                “They can’t hate each other forever,” Merlin points out.

                “Gaheris doesn’t believe in showmanship. But he’ll come around as long as Galahad quits being a peacock.”

                That’s unlikely to happen. Merlin likes imagining Harry as a peacock though, and figures Harry will, too.

                Gawain rests his hand on Merlin’s shoulder for a moment. “Hey, it’s a really good thing. You and Harry. And don’t worry about me: I can keep a secret as long as you’d like me to. And you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, I know this firsthand. Nevertheless, if you ever need _assistance_ bashing someone’s face in, I’m your man.”

                Merlin thanks him and means it. It’s actually a relief to share this with someone, even if it didn’t occur the way he wanted it to. He feels pleasantly worn out now, both in his muscles and mind. When he gets home, Harry will be waiting with food of some sort and that pretentious grin of his. It’s a nice feeling, to be wanted, and while Merlin never figured it would matter to him, it does now. Between Harry’s affection and Gawain’s approval, Merlin feels like he’s won the world.

                He smiles all the way home.

 

+

                “Gawain isn’t going to out us.”

                Harry rolls onto his side, stretching out his body to accentuate every fine angle. “What about his personal stick in the mud?”

                “Sometimes I think Gaheris has the right idea about you. You’re a prat.”

                “Your prat,” Harry reminds him. “Besides, you’re not always a genius.”

                “Yes,” Merlin responds dryly. “I heard all about you stalking me.”

                It’s Harry’s turn to be surprised. “From Gawain?”

                “Yes. Apparently he’s noticed all your attempts to get my attention.”

                “At least _someone_ did.”

                Before Merlin can respond, Harry hooks a leg over his hips and straddles him. “While I’m glad Gawain finds us so amusing, I’d like to finish what we started earlier.”

                “What _you_ started,” Merlin reminds him, unable to resist stroking his thumbs across Harry’s thighs.

                “Who won?” Harry asks, sliding his hands across Merlin’s chest. There are new callouses on his palms, a reminder of his growing prowess. He leans ever closer, still grinning.

                The tendons in Merlin’s neck strain as he lifts his head. He wants to kiss that grin right off Harry’s face until he’s red-lipped and panting. “Do you even care?”

                A warm puff of air brushes his face as Harry chuckles.

                “One thing,” he says, leaning just out of Merlin’s reach. “If you come home with any more ‘development’ injuries, I’m going to wring Gaheris’s skinny little neck.”

                “ _Harry_.”

                “I’m serious.” Harry presses a kiss to the hollow of Merlin’s neck, just a hint of teeth grazing his skin. The oil in Harry’s hair has started to wear off this late in the day and the wayward strands tickle Merlin’s cheek. “I don’t like it when you’re hurt.”

                “Says the man who’s happiest in a firefight, or jumping off roofs. I don’t much enjoy it, either.”

                “I’m always careful.”

                Merlin could argue with him, but Harry’s found another spot on his neck to suck at and it’s distracting. What he is thinking about, is getting a little revenge. He flips them over, covering Harry’s body with his own and pressing his lips down. Harry responds enthusiastically and Merlin wonders if all the teasing was meant to achieve this in the first place.

                _You little shit_ , he thinks, and Harry smirks back as though he can read Merlin’s thoughts.

                “Shut up,” he mutters, and Harry laughs in response.

                It’s not like he’s unhappy about it, though.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone wondering, Gawain and Gaheris are homoromantic asexuals, meaning they’re romantically attracted to each other but don’t engage in sexual activity. During their first mission together, Gaheris was badly injured trying to protect Gawain. They’ve been close ever since, though no one at Kingsman knows the exact nature of their relationship.
> 
> I didn’t give Gaheris much love here, but he’s actually an excitable little nerd who is quite wonderful. He and Merlin spend a lot of time working on new tech together and commiserating over their injury-prone agents. Gaheris doesn’t like Harry’s tendency to preen, but begrudgingly respects his skill and later accepts him.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
